Thunder Road
by excessivelyperky
Summary: The Weasley's magical car ponders on itsherorigins, and life in the Forbidden Forest. DarkFluff.


Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, except the bits that belong to Stephen King. They get all the money, too. Pity. 

Thunder Road

by Excessivelyperky

            Most people don't know that I'm originally from the U.S. I'm still not sure how I got to England, except possibly as scrap metal built into a tanker. Eventually all the parts that belonged to me reassembled themselves out of the ship. I always heal, and eventually I was recognizable as a car in skeletal form. 

            I was hauled to a junkyard, but while I was there I began to feel a bit more like myself. A young man from London found me and took me away. He had the strangest mark on his left arm, but I thought nothing of it. His dark tattoo was somewhat on the Goth side, but not nearly as impressive as some I've seen back home. But he took care of me properly, saying he was going to give me as a present to someone who would really appreciate me.

            That ended when strange people wearing robes and waving sticks around invaded the place and took my owner away. One of those people, a red-headed man that I later learned was Arthur Weasley, took a fancy to me himself.

            I was pleased when he took me home. To my embarrassment, though, he used his own magic to enchant me into a bright, cheerful Ford Anglia, of all things. "After all, you're going to be a family car now," he told me. All his children but the youngest girl fell in love with me at once. It was a new sensation, since I normally work with only one owner at a time. 

            Of course, his wife was instantly suspicious of me. Most women generally are, and I rarely stay in their hands for long. But Molly Weasley took the trouble to come out to the garage and have little talks with me about behaving myself, and chanted a spell to come to the rescue of any of her family. Frankly, she terrified me more than any other woman I've ever known, and that includes that crazy nurse back home who carried a sledgehammer, and wasn't afraid to use it. 

            I was pleased by some of the changes made in me. After Arthur Weasley summoned tommyknockers to install the flying gear, I was extremely happy. I resolved to keep that improvement if I was ever on my own again.

            I rarely got to go out and play, though. Mrs. Weasley made sure of that. It felt even stranger to be stretched to make room for everyone and their baggage when taking the children to Hogwarts. I try not to remember the few times the twins took me out without permission. Fortunately, they were both good at repairing the upholstery. But I digress.

            Then came that memorable day when the youngest boy took the wheel and his famous friend sat in the passenger seat (even I had heard of Potter by this time, considering how all of them talked). It was just as well that I knew the way fairly well already, though it was a lot of fun to see the boys' faces when I pretended to stall. 

            I didn't like the way I landed, though, when the flying gear slipped and landed me in the grasp of the Whomping Willow. I don't care how long it takes, one of these days I'm going to get back at that tree!

            It took weeks to heal from the beating that wretched thing gave me, and kept me from changing back into my normal form. And just when I felt all right again, I had to rescue the youngest boy and his friend again from those horrible spiders. I was humiliated to find out that Molly Weasley's injunction to protect her children still had such a strong effect on me.

            Things have been quiet in the Forbidden Forest since then. The centaurs can hear me when I talk to them, though they don't seem to like me much. The spiders and I keep our distance after a few confrontations that were unpleasant for everyone. I can't get the flying gear to work right, but there's nothing wrong with my tires. 

            I finally changed back into my original appearance—black, sleek and deadly. Only a car with the power of a Fury can possibly survive in the Forbidden Forest. I enjoy the challenge of the struggle against the creatures here, where I don't have to pretend to be an obedient machine until it's too late. 

            Or maybe I've lost my taste for corrupting humans. I blame Molly Weasley for that, if it's true. 

            But there's one man who comes into the Forest that I think I could get along with. He reeks of the darkness the way I do, but the centaurs don't mind talking to him. How odd.

            Tonight he's finally noticed my presence in the shadow and speaks to me. "Ah. The Weasley car, perhaps. I didn't think the Forest could change machines, even enchanted ones."

            I roll up to his tall, spare form and purr my engine at him. Maybe someone with such a strong magic aura can hear my voice. "This is the way I really am. The Weasleys changed me. They want everything around them to be nice and cheerful."

            He raised one dark eyebrow. "I've noticed that myself. Do I call you sir or madam?"

            Snape. I remember now, that's what the centaurs call him. "Why so formal, Professor?" I say to him, popping open the driver's door. "You can call me Christine."


End file.
